Wandering Children
by Valeada
Summary: Strarted in a bout of anger at the general repetitive content of Christine/Erik Phics. Raul doesn't show up that night at the graveyard, changing the course of the story, and Christine goes with Erik. What does this mean for them all? Rating may go up.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am writing this because after an afternoon of reading fanficiton, I am frankly disappointed at the quality of fanfics on here, and how OOC and irritatingly angsty everyone seems to be. Also, I found about one Christine/Erik fic that deviated from the "Christine changes her mind in the final scene" standard. I mean, I love that as much as your average Phan, but after literally going through every singe Christine/Erik fic that caught my eye I got pretty tired of the repetitiveness. Not to mention that I only managed to find ONE fic where Christine goes with Erik in the graveyard scene, which I honestly find to be a more plausible thing. So enough with my ranting, on with the fanfic! Oh, and for the little it matters, I am following the stage time line, not the movie. Gerard Butler is fabulous and ridiculously sexy and everything, and his face shall always be the face of my phantom, but there really is no contest between the movie and the voices of the 25th anniversary cast.**

Christine knelt at the foot of her father's grave as lone tear slid down her cheek. Her breath made puffs of smoke in the air, but she wouldn't let her feel the cold. She was sick of feeling numb. More tears joined the first one, following its glistening track down her face and falling into the snow at her feet. It was all to overwhelming. She was just so confused about everything. It was all catching up on her at once. First she was suddenly thrown into the spotlight, and it had been amazing. As she sang on stage at the gala she felt herself soar, and for the first time in years she truly remembered why she had begun to sing in the first place: to feel as though, even for a brief moment, that she was back at the cottage by the sea with her father, with music in her heart, in her mind, in her soul. As if he was and always had been right there beside her, guiding her each step of the way. And even when the opera had finished she still felt the rush, and it had taken her higher than she could ever remember feeling.

Then Raul had returned, and it was though her father was smiling down on her, saying here child, you know I never left you. Raul felt like a gift from her father. Then the Phantom had appeared and she learned that her angel of music, who she had already begun to feel slightly _too _strongly for, had been revealed to be not an angel at all, but a man. And that shook up her world even more. For as an angel he had been unattainable, forever with her, but still never quite within her grasp. Learning that he was a _man _opened up entirely new possibilities...

Then Carlotta had returned and, though it was slightly disappointing, it had not been entirely unexpected, nor entirely unwelcome. Being the Prima Donna was nice, but it had all been so sudden. But the phantom, her phantom, had seen it differently. To him it was as though the managers were thumbing their noses at both him and Christine, and he began to feverishly advocate for her career, which though flattering, didn't exactly put her in a good light with the managers and the rest of the company.

Then there had been the night of the performance, and Buquet's murder. To say that that shook her was an understatement. Now her angel was not just a man, but a dangerous one, and the feelings that she was beginning to realize that she had for him seemed to be incredibly stupid. And in the midst of all of this terror and confusion Raul had taken advantage of the situation and proposed to her, and so anxious was she for something to steady her in this whirlwind she had fallen into that she had agreed. Then after the show had been over and the familiar high was settling in on her the chandelier had fallen and everything had fallen into turmoil again.

She didn't exactly know why she had forced Raul to keep their engagement a secret, weather it was because as she claimed that the phantom would find out, quiet as he had been, or if it had been because she had been having doubts about how she was feeling about Raul and about the Phantom and really, just everything in general. Things had just been beginning to calm down again when _he _had shown up at the masquerade with his opera that he demanded she star in, turning her life upside-down once again. And when she had stood in front of him she had almost forgotten Raul and their engagement and was reminded why she feared him; not just because of his murderous capabilities, but because of how he made her feel. And now here she was, still completely overwhelmed by her father's death, still not fully able to accept that she would never see him again, would never hear his violin late at night when he awoke with the desperate need to feel some Mozart under his fingers, flowing from his bow. It made her heart ache to even think about it. She didn't want to have to deal with all of this at once, it was just too much.

She tried to push the isolation and fear out of her head, but in their wake huge waves of desperation began to overwhelm her and she began to sob, her shoulders shaking. In the back of her mind an old, familiar tune floated through her head. She thought she remembered her father playing it one evening as they sat on the shore by their cottage. It was funny, she could almost swear she could actually hear it... She looked around, startled. She _could_ hear it! Someone was playing the vioin. A tender voice drifted through the air, sweet and comforting.

"_Wandering child, so lost so helpless,_

_ Yearning for my guidance"_

She stood up with a start. She knew that voice. It ran through her head all day and night whether she wanted it to or not.

"_Angel, or Father? _

_ Friend, or Phantom?_

_ Who is it there, hiding?"_

She trembled as she backed away from the tomb, terrified. His voice drew her in, but she could not surrender to it yet. She had to fight it! But it drew her all the same.

"_Have you forgotten your angel?"_

No, never. Fight as she might against him, she could never forget him. He would always have a hold on her soul, and she wasn't completely sure she didn't want him to.

_"Angel, oh speak,_

_ What endless longings,_

_ Echo in this whisper!" _

The tears were beginning to flow again, she was so completely helpless under the power of his voice, and it had been so long since she had heard him like this, he sounded like the angel she had grown to... feel for. Not the dreaded Phantom she had grown to fear.

_"Too long you've wandered in Winter, _

_ Far from my fathering gaze..."_

She blushed at that, whatever she felt for this man, it was not the feelings that passed between a father and his child. But no, she was giving in too easily, she had to fight him! But she moaned as she felt the power of his voice wrap her up, pulling her towards him, she struggled and jerked backwards, trying to get free.

_"Wildly my mind beats against you.."_

_ "You resist..."_

_ "__**Yet my/your soul obeys!**__"_

She knew now that she could not fight this, and maybe she didn't want to. If this was the power that he had over, maybe it was God's will, and she should not fight him. She flung her arms into the air and sang as she had never before.

_"__**Angel of Music, I/you denied you/me**_

_** Turning from true beauty**__"_

Their voices melded together perfectly, forming a hauntingly beautiful melody that filled her heart and her soul to the brim. Her gaze was fixed solely on him, nothing else matter but him, his voice, and getting closer to both of them. In the back of her mind, she almost felt as though someone was missing, that someone else was supposed to be here, but she brushed the suspicion off and continued singing with him.

_" __**Angel of Music, my protector/do not shun me**_

_** Come to me/your strange Angel!**__"_

She stopped singing, panting, as her breath made miniature clouds in the air before her. Her gaze never once left the main atop the tomb. He jumped down to the ground, making a soft crunch as he landed in the snow. He extended his black gloved hand towards her.

_"I am your Angel of Music,_

_ Come to me; Angel of Music."_

She took a tentative step towards him, arm extended to take his. She was barely three feet away from him now, one more step and she would be able to touch him. His white mask gleamed in the moonlight as snowflakes drifted down and settled on his cape, littering the black with soft flecks of white. He sang again.

_" I am your Angel of Music,_

_ Come to me; Angel of Music!"_

He let the final note hang in the air as she took another step towards him, hesitated, and then slowly placed her hand in his. A triumphant grin spread over his face, and somewhere off in the distance, Christine thought she hear an organ blare.

Back in his mansion, Roul slept soundly, unaware of the story changing events going on roughly a mile away in the snowy graveyard.

**So what do you think? Be warned, this is my first phanfic, so please be gentle. That seemed to clear up my bout of irrational anger at fanfiction :P oh well. Reviews are my bread and butter, and make me more likely to update! :) **

**Also, If anyone is interested in beta reading this, PLEASE pm me, I would love to hear from you :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE Wow, such great responses! I don't think I've ever had a story that went over this well! thank you everyone who read the first chapter, and I hope that you all like this one just as much. I have a beta reader now, so thank you Ophelia V. Santori! I watched Love Never Dies for the first time and fell in love with a few of the songs, so I may just use some of them in here. I'm still not quite as besotted with it as I am with PTO, but Til I Hear You Sing and Beauty Underneath are both amazing songs :) Now to reply to my wonderful reviews!  
rainbowsunset2011: Thank you so much! I'm sorry if I didn't update as soon as you would have wished, I am rather bad at updating :P Glad to see I'm not the only one out there who is irritated at the phics on here.  
Eponnia: It's true, there are some good phics out there, I have favourited a few of them :P And of course it's Raoul. I know how to spell his name, Things sometimes slip through the cracks when you don't have a beta. But I have one now so stupid mistakes like that should happen less frequently :P But please, if you ever catch anything please let me know.  
Celtic Authoress: Thank you for pointing out my error, It was a silly typo, which will hopefully decrease in frequency now that I have a beta reader. But please, so continue to tell me if I make more silly mistakes like this, It's not mean at all, it is actually really appreciated and helpful.  
GracefulWolvesInTheNight: Thank you for the lovely compliments! I hope you like this chapter as well!  
Anonymous: Thank you for the praise, and for agreeing with me :P  
PhantomFan01: I couldn't resist throwing in that bit about Raoul at the end. Ive never been a big fan of Raoul, so i couldn't help making him have no idea what was going on. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!  
Alana Fox: Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!  
loonynerdxd9: Thanks for the praise! Your wait is now over, here is the requested chapter!  
emily (): Thanks a lot, and I hope this was the more you were looking for :P  
Wow, so many reviews! Thank you to every one of you! I hope to hear from you again, you make writing worth my while :) Also IF anyone happens to want to draw something for this silly image thing for this story, please feel free to! Now let's go on with the show! (oops, wrong musical, sorry :P )  
**Christine was not entirely sure where He was taking her.

All she felt was the chill of the cold night air as it whipped past her face, trailing her skirts out behind her forcibly enough to be audible. All she felt was the heat of his skin beneath the thin layer of his black shirt that was clenched between her hands at his waist, in an attempt to keep from falling off. All she felt was the firmness of his back as she pressed her face against it, sheltering herself from the bite in the air, taking in his scent.

All she saw was a flurry of white as it drifted past her as they sped through the night, twisting every which way as if trying to lose someone, but whenever she glanced back, there was no one there. All she could see were the houses around them, transforming into one multi-colored blur as they rode faster and faster towards the what she assumed was the opera house, but if she was honest with herself she didn't quite know where they were headed and she wasn't certain she cared. All she saw were the frequent, fervent glances back at her that he tried to hide. He was clearly trying to seem stoic and unfeeling, but she saw through the facade immediately when their eyes briefly met in one of his glances back her way. The look in his eyes was tentative, searching for any fear or regret in hers, but there was also a look of triumph. He was clearly overjoyed that she had finally chosen him. A grin flashed across his face as he snapped the reigns, sending the horse off even faster into the night.

When they finally stopped, they were indeed by the opera house, in front of one of the back entrances barely anyone ever used, next to the stables. The Phantom easily dismounted the ebony horse with a swirl of his cape and turned back to her, offering her his black gloved hand. She readily took it, her gaze never leaving his. She dismounted as well, with his help. Though the glove stopped her from feeling the heat of his skin, her hand still tingled when he let go of it. He made his way to the heavy wooden gate that led into the stables, pulling the horse gently by the reins. He pushed open the gate and looked back at her, gesturing for her to follow. She gingerly took a step forward, and, after seeing him nod in approval, followed him into the stables.  
The frost covering the ground managed to get rid of most of the unpleasant smell, leaving behind simply a pleasant, earthy smell in the air. Most of the horses appeared to be asleep, but the few that were awake snorted at them as they walked past, causing Christine to jump in fright.

The Phantom looked back at her to ensure she was alright, then continued to lead her to the very back of the stables. He led the horse into the last stall in the back corner of the stable, then held out his hand for her to take, which she did. He lifted one of the torches off the stable wall and, after examining the bricks of the wall closely, pressed the small tip of the torch into a nearly invisible indentation in the brick, and turned it until there was a faint click and half the wall slid away, revealing a large passageway leading down, presumably into the depths of the opera house. After looking back at her only once more, he led her into the passageway. Christine barely even noticed when the wall slid shut behind her.

The passageway was dark and slightly gloomy. It was much like the passageway behind the mirror in her dressing room that he had first led her down, so long ago. A few rats squeaked from obscured and unseen corners, but much like that first time, Christine felt no fear as long as her hand was safe in his. Though he was still slightly ahead of her, she was almost walking beside him rather than following him, this time. His eyes darted between her and the path ahead of them, but her eyes never left him. If someone were watching, they may have said she was trying to memorize every tiny detail about his features. They wouldn't know, of course, that she already had.

Eventually they reached the edge of the lake, where the boat was waiting. Steadying herself on his arm, she entered the boat, and then steadied him as he stepped in, as well. Without ever letting go of her hand, he picked up the waiting pole and began to propel them towards the glowing in the distance, at the opposite edge of the lake. It took them barely any time at all to reach it, and soon enough, they had docked on the familiar shore of his home, and he was helping her out of the boat onto the stone ground, into the mess of velvet and candles.

Once they were both out of the boat, they just stood there for a second, staring into each other's eyes. both of them unsure of what to do next.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Phantom cleared his throat and made to move away from her, perhaps to take off his cloak, but she stopped him by clutching at his hand.

He slowly turned back around to face her, and before he knew what was happening, her lips were on his. And she was kissing him, kissing him hard, kissing him passionately. Frozen by his shock, the Phantom simply stood there, hands trembling at his sides.

Christine, confused at his lack of response, began to pull away. But as the sweet pressure of her lips on his began to subside he panicked, not ready for the incomparable sensation to end. He buried his hands almost roughly in her hair, pulling her back to him, kissing her fiercely. Christine smiled briefly into the kiss, kissing him back with matched passion, as much as she could muster.

She knew now that she would never be able to get enough of this-the feeling of his lips against hers, the feeling of her hands running through his hair, stiff though it was; of the sweet taste of him on her lips and the feeling of his tongue, suddenly bold, dipping into her mouth.

Even his scent was intoxicating, a heady mixture of musk, candle wax and something she couldn't quite place, something clean and bright. It made her want him as she had never wanted anyone in all her life. Had she been able to form any conscious thoughts at all, she perhaps would have thought of how little the kisses she shared with Raoul affected her in comparison. But Christine was far beyond the point of formulating such complicated thoughts-the passion in this kiss left her effectively unable to think of anything else.

His hands left her hair and trailed slowly down her back, causing a deep shiver to ripple through her body. His hand, returning upwards, briefly stopped at her neck. He fingered the cool metal of a chain, not remembering a necklace. He quickly trailed his fingers down the chain until he reached the weight hanging at the end, and the cool, smooth feeling of Raoul's ring shattered the passion and replaced it with reality.

He abruptly pulled away from her, his eyes fixed on the ring around her neck.

His eyes darkened, but not in the way she suddenly wanted them to.

Christine was confused. Why had he stopped? Was she not satisfactory to him? She followed his gaze down to the ring, now dangling very visibly over her bodice. Her chest was heaving, making her curves all the more prominent. She locked eyes with him and couldn't ignore the hurt there, and without a second thought she reached up to the ring and yanked it off of her neck, breaking the chain and tossing the ring into some corner of the room. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Christine..." He breathed, and didn't protest when she closed the distance between them. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands slide to her waist, pulling her even closer to him.

Their tongues meet and their passions at last alive, their moans create an entirely new type of music that entwine together in an odd sort of harmony. A shiver ran down Christine's body, but this one was different, not of desire, and she trembles as she pulls away from him. The Phantom looked at her, realizing for the first time that as they had warmed up the snow covering her had caused Christine to be soaked.

"I'm sorry," Christine apologized with a faint smile. "I'm just a bit cold." The Phantom shook his head, smiling.  
"No, please, do not apologize. We should go to rest, at any rate. It should be quite late soon. I believe I have a nightgown in the closet in the bedroom for you, you may change into that." He decided, gesturing towards the bedroom. She gave him a strange look. "I will wait here, of course." He clarified and the look melted away.

She nodded and walked towards the bedroom. She found the nightgown quickly and changed, glad to be free of her corset and drenched clothes. She walked out of the bedroom to find the phantom sitting at the organ with his eyes closed, not playing anything, just sitting. She cleared her throat to get his attention and he looked up at her, an a small smile spread over his lips. He stood up and came towards her. She took his hand and they walked into the bedroom.

Suddenly he stopped, looking into the room. She looked to, confused, and then realised what he was looking at. There was only one bed. Albeit a large bed, but one none the less, she looked back at him so see a mad blush spreading across the phantom's face. She shook her head, and continued to walk into the room, pulling him after her.

"I could sleep in the boat..." The phantom protested, attempting to free his hand from her grasp. She shook her head.

"Don't be silly, the bed is perfectly large enough for two." She protested. "The boat would be far too uncomfortable."

"But Christine, I..." He protested, but she put a finger to his lips, stopping his protests. He fell silent at her boldness, and she blushed but did not stop.

"No, no buts." She shook her head and sat down on the bed. She patted the spot beside her ,and after a moment's hesitation he sat down beside her, his gaze never leaving her face, her lips, which were slightly swollen from their previous... activities.

He blushed again, and she lay down, pulling her down with him. He lay as stiff as a board, unable to move for fear of trembling. She shook her head and laughed, leaning into him and gently pulling one of his arms around her, moving herself closer to him. His blush deepened, but he slowly began to relax. She adjusted her position to blow out the candles closest to the bed and then lay back down in the darkness.

A smile played over her lips, and the Phantom couldn't help but let himself smile as well. It was going to be uncomfortable to sleep in his mask like this, but he couldn't take it off while she was here, willingly sharing a bed with him.

So he braved the discomfort for her.

He had just about fallen asleep when a soft voice drifted from beside him.

"I can't just call you Angel or Phantom forever. Tell me, what is your name?" Christine asked him sleepily. He had to think for a moment before he remembered the name that people had used to call him, before all of this had started, long even before he had been called the devil's child.

"Erik." He whispered. "My name is Erik." Christine smiled, snuggling closer into his arms.

"Erik..." She mused. "I like it." and not long after they were both asleep, and for the first time in years Erik didn't have a single nightmare.

**So what did you think? Please read, review and subscribe! I Hope to hear from you soon! Remember,** **Reviews mean faster updates!**


	3. Chapter 3

Christine awoke the next morning slowly, a smile still on her face. She sat up, rubbed her eyes and stretched. She started when her hand met an unexpected brush of velvet.

She opened her eyes for the first time, looking around to find the velvet she had touched, and frowned when she saw the curtain. She was lost for a moment before she suddenly remembered what had happened the night before, immediately blushing at the flood of memories.

How _could _she have been so forward in kissing her Angel, her Erik, like that?

She blushed again.

Christine had spent her childhood very religious, and was a firm believer in waiting for-such things-until marriage. Her upbringing in the world of the opera house had loosened her views considerably, she did work and live with a great many bawdy men and brazen women after all, and it was no secret that some of the outfits that the girls in the corps de ballet wore were quite blatantly sexual. But before Raoul she had never been with a man off of the stage.

Even with him, she had made her views on the subject very clear, and though he often made it very clear that he didn't like it, he did respect her wishes.

So she was slightly perturbed at what sort of ideas the kiss she had shared with Erik the night before might have given him. Though, she recalled, this was the second time that she had spent the night in his bed, and neither time had he taken advantage of her.

She just hoped he didn't think her a tease.  
Sighing, she decided that it was time to get out of bed. She glanced to her left, making out his shape in the dim light and realizing he had been there the entire time. She blushed again, hoping that he hadn't been watching her.

She had a nasty habit of displaying all of her emotions on her face when she thought no-one was looking, and with the themes of her recent thoughts, she could only imagine what she must have looked like.

She made out his face as her eyes adjusted to the shadows and was relieved to see that he was still asleep and breathing deeply. He looked so very peaceful.

She had never seen him look this unguarded, so open and content and even slightly happy. He still wore his mask, and his hair was slightly askew, making her wonder for the first time if he wearing a wig.

It did make sense. With that severe a deformity on his face, it was only logical that some of it spread to his scalp as well. She wondered if he would ever let her see what his real hair looked like...  
She smiled as she looked over his peaceful face. A small part of her was glad that he was still wearing the mask. Though, if he were to take it off, she would act completely unaffected. She would die before allowing him to think he disgusted her. And he didn't, he really didn't. She just wasn't completely... _used_ to his face yet, having only seen it once before. And it was shocking at first, she knew that. It was probably best that it was hidden from her.

But another part of her felt guilty. From the way it was positioned, she could be fairly certain it was highly uncomfortable to sleep in. She swallowed with the realization that he only wore his mask in his sleep for her.

A bit of the scarring on his forehead was showing-his mask had shifted slightly in the night. She was transfixed by it, her eyes focused on the patch of malformed skin she could just barely see peeking out from behind the mask he wore. She so wanted to take the mask off in that moment, however perverse and wrong it may have been.

It was only reasonable, after all. She _would _have to get used to his face eventually. She wanted to. She wanted to be able to look at his face and not feel a twinge of anything at all, to know only that she was looking at the man she loved. She wanted so to be strong for him, it was what he deserved. She _would _be strong for him. She needed to start sometime.

Her eyes still fixed on his forehead , her hand started to drift towards Erik's face. Her hand was barely an inch away now, she could brush the cold porcelain with her trembling fingertips if she just reached a little farther. She stopped for a moment, wondering if she was making the right decision, remembering what had happened the last time. She looked at his sleeping face and wondered if she was betraying him, remembered his anger. She remembered how hurt and angry he had been, and bit her lip.

But she loved him, surely that was all that mattered now. She could be strong for him now, now that she had made her choice. She took a deep breath and slowly reached for the edge of the mask.  
Suddenly Erik's eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened, and Christine's hand shot back into her lap. He blinked a few times, scrunching his eyes up as the dim light entered them. Then he noticed that she was there and smiled a huge grin, and she realized how rarely he truly did smile.  
He had lovely teeth.  
His smile was beautiful.  
"Good morning." he said gently as he sat up next to her, causing the bed to shift a bit. She smiled back at him.  
"Good morning." She repeated, voice soft and shy. His eyes travelled over her, searching for something she couldn't have guessed if she tried. Evidently he found what he was looking for, for he absently began to straighten his clothes, then his mask, not quite so absently.  
"How long have you been awake, Christine?" He asked, hoping she hadn't been waiting for him to wake for very long. That would prove most inconvenient for him, considering how little sleep he normally took.  
"Just a few minutes." She replied, shaking her head and causing her curls to bounce jauntily.  
"You should have woken me." He said softly, eyes tender on her.

She was probably hungry now, he realized. She would want food, of course. He should fix them some breakfast.

He looked around and pulled on a small gold tassel, causing the curtains to spring open,and he just as quickly rose from the bed.

He turned to look back at her and had to consciously restrain his jaw from dropping. He didn't believe he would ever grow accustomed to her beauty. Her hair was slightly messy from sleeping, but hung just perfectly, the slight red tones glinting in the candlelight. The nightgown hung loosely from her frame, showing so little but still more than enough to cause him difficulty breathing. He tried not to meet her gaze, for fear of what he might be driven to do if he stared to long into her deep, beautiful eyes.

And the fact that she was just sitting there-_in his bed_-looking up at him quite innocently through her thick eyelashes was enough to drive him mad.  
Christine ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame it slightly, and he whipped his own hand up to his face, terrified at the sudden thought that his mask may have fallen off. He nearly sighed in relief when he felt that it was still there, but both it and his wig were slightly askew.

He made a move to adjust him, but suddenly Christine reached up and grabbed his arm, getting off the bed and standing.  
"No, leave it." She said. "I really don't mind." Erik stared at her, not sure if he was confused or afraid, then attempted to free his arm of her grasp, forcing a smile.  
"Come now, Christine, I really don't think that's a good idea." He cautioned. Christine just shook her head.  
"Please, Erik, I really don't mind." She begged.

Erik was starting to get frantic, there was no way he could say no to her if she kept pleading with him-he had never been able to deny her anything-but his _face_...

She must not see his face ever again. His face was poisonous! If she was faced with his deformity she might change her mind and leave him, and that was not something he was equipped or prepared to face. Not after she had decided of her own free will to come with him for a second time.

He roughly pushed her hands away, and she started at the sudden desperation in his eyes.  
"Do not speak such lies to me, Christine! How could you even say such things to _me_? My face is... horrible. You've seen it before, my dear sweet girl. You should know!" He raged, panting heavily.

Christine's eyes were wide with shock. Erik nearly swore. Now he had frightened her and she would leave him anyway.

"Christine, I-" She silenced him with a shake of her head. His face fell even further. This was it. He had lost her for good. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. "I am very sorry."  
He was too busy wallowing in his perceived loss that he didn't notice her step forward until she had placed a soft, tentative kiss on his lips.

He jumped slightly-it had been a long time since anyone had managed to sneak up on the Opera Ghost without his knowledge-but relished the feel of her lips all the same.

Then as soon as it was there it was gone, and she was standing in front of him with a small smile dancing across her lips. Erik smiled back, relieved.  
"Christine." He breathed apologetically, pulling her into a tight embrace, allowing her scent to wash over him. He buried his face in her hair.  
"Now, I'm not asking you to take them off completely... Just... leave them the way they are, for now..." Christine explained awkwardly, not breaking apart their embrace, hiding her face in his jacket. "Maybe you'll feel comfortable without them eventually-"  
Erik gave a mirthless laugh. "Oh my darling girl, you are too kind." he pulled her chin up to face him, gentle as always. But his eyes were serious. "But I'm afraid the mask must stay."  
"Well you can't wear the mask all hours of the day and night forever, and since I don't plan on leaving we'll both need to get used to you being without it a bit at a time..." She continued, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air, running a hand tenderly through his still messed up wig. Erik pushed her to arms length, his eyes wide.  
"You, you mean that you plan on staying? You choose me?" He stuttered, shocked that she might have been completely serious about staying with him forever. He had not considered that this could last, that such heaven could remain reality for longer than a few days.

And though his heart already soared at the idea of having Christine, _his_ Christine, by his side through all of the years that lay ahead of him, he still had to be sure that this was what she wanted.

He could not keep her here against her will, no matter how much he wanted to.

Christine simply nodded, her eyes shy but certain, meeting his. She looked dizzy, Erik realized. She looked dizzy staring into his eyes.  
"Of course." Christine breathed, placing another soft kiss on his mouth.

But Erik did not remain stock still as he had before. He placed his hands on the sides of her face, kissing her passionately, desperately... even possessively. Christine wrapped her arms around his neck without a second thought, a rush of heat suddenly shooting through her.

Erik lips, hot and hungry, travelled to her neck and Christine moaned, once again forgetting her views about such things occurring before marriage in the heat of the moment with her Angel of Music.

Erik suddenly bit down gently on a particularly sensitive spot on her neck and she moaned again, causing Erik to give a small growl, followed by a louder one from Christine's stomach.

They broke apart, both panting, and stared at the offending stomach. Their eyes met and there was a short moment of stunned, awkward silence.

Christine giggled and then burst into an all out laughing fit. Erik shook his head, grinning as well.  
"Come, my Angel, I think I may be keeping you from some much-needed breakfast." He chuckled, taking her hand and leading her behind the bed to a small opening cut into the stone wall. Christine had never noticed it before.  
He led her inside and she was surprised to see a fully functioning kitchen and a rather elegant dining table made of smooth wood, complete with two velvet-upholstered chairs. There was a small iron wood heated stove whose smoke pipe lead up to somewhere in the ceiling. There was a large sink and a wooden chopping table next to the stove and in the far corner of the rectangular room there was a small wooden washtub. There was another small door in the other far corner that Christine presumed lead to either a pantry or the opera house kitchens. Christine smiled. The kitchen was small, but it had a sort of homey feel to it that the rest of the lair didn't have. It reminded her of the kitchen in the cottage by the sea where she had lived with her father so many years ago. Christine looked back at the Phantom and smiled at him,  
"I always wondered how you ate." She joked, making her way towards the pantry to find something to eat. Erik grabbed onto her hand again, stopping her.  
"No, you sit down, I'll cook." he offered. Christine nodded, secretly relieved. She was not a particularly good cook, and was only able to make a few simple dishes. Now if her Angel could cook as well as his many other talents she would really be impressed. Thus far every thing that she had seen him do he had excelled in. It was a shame that people couldn't get past his deformity, if things had been different Erik could have been very famous for very different reasons than he was now.  
Christine mentally stopped her train of thought and went over that last idea. That was the first time that she had thought of Erik's face a problem of perception by others. She smiled. Maybe she would be able to deal with this after all.  
A moment later the Phantom came back into the room, his arms full of eggs, a small bottle of milk, some cheeses and an assortment of vegetables and meat. He set them down on the counter and then turned to her.  
"Do omelets sound alright to you?" He asked, gesturing to the pile of ingredients on the table.  
"Omelets sound lovely." Christine nodded. Erik got to work, pulling a small bowl out from beneath the chopping table and pulling down a pan from above the stove. He placed the pan on one of the burners, the bowl next to the eggs and then reached under the stove to grab a log, which he chucked into the already burning flame inside the stove. Christine looked at him, confused as to how there was a fire going already when they had just woken up.  
"I got up a few hours ago to start the fire and then went back to sleep." Erik explained without turning around. Christine shook her head. Would she ever stop being surprised at his seemingly magical ability to predict her thoughts?  
"You're just predictable, that's all." Erik explained, causing Christine to shake her head in wonder.  
Christine just sat there and watched while he made breakfast. It was almost like he was dancing, the way his hands moved when he cracked the eggs, or the way he slid between the stove and the cutting table, the way he shook the pan to prevent the omelet from sticking to the pan. He was going to be completely amazing at cooking, she could already tell from the way he used his kitchen. A few minutes later he brought the omelets over on two plates along with cutlery. He set a plate, fork and knife down in front of her before sitting down himself. He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to eat. Christine blushed, embarrassed, then cut a small piece off of the omelet. She looked back at him, and he nodded to keep going. Slowly, she slipped the fork into her mouth and had to suppress a moan. It was delicious. She looked back at Erik, who was smirking. She stuck her her tongue out at him and rapidly began to devour her omelet. He still had a bit more than a quarter of his left when she finished hers, and he shook his head at her and her full expression.  
"Who would have know that someone so small would be able to eat so much so fast?" Erik teased, taking another bite of his omelet. Christine sighed happily.  
"You forget, monsieur, that I was a ballerina for a long time, we need to eat to be able to keep up with Madam Giry!" She replied, picking up her and his (now empty) plates and cutlery and carried them over to the sink. He stood up, trying to take the plates from her, but she stepped around him, placing the dishes in the sink and running the water.  
"I insist. You made the breakfast, so I should clean up." Christine insisted, beginning to wash the plates. "Besides, there is not much here, I'll be done in no time. You go get changed and I'll follow after." He nodded and headed into the other room. She came into the room just as he was putting on a new shirt. She yelped and covered her eyes, trying to blindly back up into the kitchen again. The Phantom quickly slipped his shirt on and walked over to her, removing her hands from her eyes. Now that he was in clean clothes again the fact that the soprano was wearing nothing but a slim nightgown was painfully obvious to him, and he couldn't help but give her a quick, searing kiss before breaking away.  
"I'll be at the organ, you can either wear your clothes from yesterday or I believe I have some dresses in the closet in the corner." He said as he walked out of the room. Christine wandered over to the closet, shrugging off the straps of the nightgown. As she opened the closet she sighed. Most of the dresses in here were blatantly costumes, possibly predecessors to the ones he had supplied for Don Juan. There was one that reminded her of her dress for the closing number of the show[1] , a simple grey green dress with two red stripes down the bodice, two more on the skirt and red cuffs on the sleeves. There was a strange tassel hanging from where the skirt gathered at the left hip that was slightly lighter than the rest of the dress. This would do fine.  
When Christine emerged from the bedroom Erik was busy at the organ, playing a piece that she remembered he had taught her just before this whole thing began, just before they had begun their rehearsals for Hannibal. Back then it had been just another song, but looking back on it now sh wondered if he had been trying to tell her something more. She heard the cue for the singer to start and before he could take up the melody she walked up behind him and began to sing the familiar tune.  
"_Who knows when love begins,_  
_Who knows what makes it start._  
_One day It's simply there, alive inside your heart."_  
She sang a little shakily, She hadn't had a warm up and it showed. Oh well, she would warm up in the song. Erik flinched in surprise a bit when he first heard her sing, but then calmed down and began to play the accompaniment. She cleared her throat and continued.  
"_It slips into your thoughts,_  
_It infiltrates your soul,_  
_It takes you by surprise and seizes your control."_  
She was getting back into the swing of things now, her notes were becoming more clear as she warmed up, preparing for the chorus.  
"_Try to deny it and try to protest_  
_But love won't let you go once you've been possessed."_  
That was it, her voice was fine now. Erik was getting into the piece as well, his head tilted back slightly as he let the pureness of her voice wash over him. She sang to him now the was she should have when they first learned the piece, the way she had been too afraid to then, but was more than willing to now. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder which he leaned into as she sang into the chorus.  
"_Love never dies,_  
_Love never falters,_  
_Once it has spoken Love is yours._

_Love never fades,_  
_Love never alters,_  
_Hearts may get broken, love endures_  
_Hearts may get broken, love endures."_  
She smiled down at Erik, and he smiled back at her, clearly understanding what she was trying to say trough the song, and he tried to do the same through his organ, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as swiftly as she had once done in the corps de ballet. She placed her other hand on his other shoulder, using him as leverage to sing stronger than before.  
"_And soon as you submit,_  
_Surrender flesh and bone,_  
_That love takes on a life far greater than your own._

_It uses you at whim,_  
_And drives you to despair,_  
_And forces you to feel more joy than you can bear._

_Love gives you pleasure_  
_And love brings you pain,_  
_And yet, when both are gone,_  
_Love will still remain."_  
It was one of the rare instrumental breaks in the song, and she took the time to catch her breath and squeeze Erik's shoulder gently.  
"_Hearts may get broken, love endures_  
_Hearts may get broken,"_  
She paused again, preparing herself for the next bit, which was rather high for her to go without a warm up. It would be terrible embarrassing for her voice to break now. But Erik placed a hand over hers quickly, simplifying the accompaniment a bit in order to provide his support. She closed her eyes and allowed the emotions of the song to overwhelm her.  
"_Love never dies,_  
_Love will continue._  
_Love keeps on beating when you're gone._

_Love never dies_  
_Once it is in you_  
_Love may be fleeting_  
_Love lives on_  
_Love may be fleeting_  
_Love lives on!"_  
She finished, allowing the last note to linger and die in the marvellous acoustics of the lair. Erik got up from the piano bench and turned to face her. He moved to kiss her, but she held up a hand to stop him. She reached for his mask, but he flinched away.  
"Christine, I don't-" He protested, but she placed a finger over his lips.  
"No, Erik, I love you. Let me see you, all of you." Christine said. "Love never dies, Love never alters, once it has spoken, love is yours. You should know, you wrote it." She smiled. Erik flashed her a nervous grin, but didn't flinch this time when she went to remove his mask. Internally Christine braced herself for what she was about to see. She hooked her fingers around the edge of the mask and they both stiffened, and then Christine removed the mask, causing his wig to fall to the floor as well.  
Christine let out a sigh of relief. His face was nowhere near as bad as she had remembered it to be, and his hair wasn't even half as bad as she had imagined. She smiled at him and the fear in Erik's eyes turned to confusion.  
Feeling braver now Christine leaned forward and kissed him on his temple, right on his deformity. Erik's mouth fell open. Christine kissed his face again, slightly lower this time, working her way down his face. A single tear slid down Erik's cheek at the tenderness she was displaying as she kissed him on a place that not even his mother had dared to kiss him. She kissed his tear away and continued to work her way down his face towards his mouth. When she was maybe three kisses away Erik placed his hands on the sides of her perfect face and pulled her to his mouth. The kiss she gave him was so full of love, tenderness ans affection that he started to cry in earnest now.  
They didn't stop kissing until he stopped crying. They sat back down on the piano bench, and Christine curled into him, tucking her bare feet up beside her and resting her head on his shoulder. Erik leaned into hear as well and sighed contentedly. Something shiny caught his attention on the floor by the leg of the bench. Confused, he leaned down, careful not to jostle Christine, and picked it up. It was Raoul's engagement ring that Christine had tossed aside the night before when she had kissed him. Instantly and idea popped into his head.  
He shook Christine gently on her shoulder, getting her to open her eyes. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Then she noticed what he was holding and her eyes grew wide. Erik leaned in to her, right next to her ear, and took her hand in his. Christine's breathing picked up.  
"Christine," He whispered into her ear, causing a shiver to run through her body. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and did what he knew how to do best. He sang to her.  
"_You alone can make my song take flight._  
_Help me make the music of the night."_  
He sang softly into her ear, letting the last note fade slowly until neither of them could hear it. Christine took the ring from his hand, slipping it onto her finger. She leaned in close to his ear and whispered  
"I will." Erik beamed, pulling her up into a standing position and kissed her again. This kiss was different from the last one. Where the last kiss had been breathtakingly sweet this one was filled with so much joy it was surprising that no fireworks went off in the background. It took them minutes to break apart, and by then both of them were panting with the biggest grins on their faces.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
They spent the rest of the day kissing with a mixture of intents and emotions, ranging from joy, to passion, to adoration, and even a few small pecks at random moments. For a while Erik read aloud, and then they sang together, Then Christine sang, Then Erik sang acapella, then Erik tried to teach Christine to play the piano and they discovered that Christine could not play the piano _at all_. Then they discovered that Christine _could_ play the violin, as her father had taught her before he died, and so then that opened up a whole new lists of combinations of who sings and who plays. At one point Christine even danced, but that stopped when one of the candlesticks got in the way of one of her jumps, even though it "_hadn't been there before, so it must have moved into my way on purpose_", nearly causing a fire. Lunch was a collaborative effort in the sense that Christine tried to help, but it usually ended in Erik having to step in just before whatever Christine was making caught on fire. And because this was the second time she had nearly caught his lair on fire that day she was set on stove-fire-watching duty.  
At around 11 pm Erik checked the only clock he owned and realized how late it had gotten. Neither of them were particularly hungry, so they decided to just go to bed. They both got changed into their night clothes (in separate rooms) And then crawled into bed together. Unlike the previous night there was no talk of Erik sleeping somewhere else, and as soon as they were both under the covers he pulled her close against him. She settled her back in against his chest and then twisted her neck so that she could whisper into his ear.  
"You know," She whispered "I think we'll need to get married soon. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to just _sleep_ in the same bed as you." She teased before settling against him again and falling asleep almost right away. Erik, on the other hand was up almost another half hour before he was successfully able to ignore how tight his pants had gotten.

**Ugh, so sorry this is so late! There's been a lot of confusion around this chapter but I've finally got things sorted :) Pleeeease don't kill me for making you wait so long ^^;; Thanks to all of the reviews, the response to this fic has BLOWN ME AWAY! I love every. Single. One of you guys so much! **

**[1] In my head cannon the end of Point Of No Return is not the actual end of the opera, and it continues after that point with costume changes. So this dress is one I imagined to be worn by Christine at the end of the opera. And Erik made the costumes, or at least a basic approximation ****of them. In case you are interested, this is the dress it was modeled after. .ca/imgres?hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=RqK&sa=X&rls= :en-GB:official&biw=1366&bih=664&tbm=isch&tbnid=89wbuRriVcemQM:&imgrefurl= . &docid=dtEPi4uVGH7rsM&imgurl= . /_ &w=400&h=372&ei=FKXsT_CtAcS7rQGnuMTTBQ&zoom=1&iact=hc&vpx=447&vpy=143&dur=552&hovh=216&hovw=233&tx=180**


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